


Regarding Dean

by Amoreanonyname



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Idiots in Love, M/M, No Smut, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester in Denial, Sam Winchester's Bitchface, Sam complains but secretly loves it, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Use your imagination, Wincest - Freeform, about Dean being 'demanding', at least implied, but you can use your imagination, gencest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoreanonyname/pseuds/Amoreanonyname
Summary: Dean was hot, snorey, drooly, messy, kicky, stinky, taking up all of Sam’s bed. And Sam was gonna do goddamn nothing about it except bitch about it in his own head while he squirmed out from under his brother to start the coffee.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 193





	Regarding Dean

**Author's Note:**

> I am i*n*s*p*i*r*e*d*. 3 little fics this week, dunno why. Possibly more to follow.
> 
> This is tiny and short and I hope you like it!

Dean was a butt-ugly sleeper.

Sam knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to wake up to his brother wrapped around him, and feel all these warm loving feelings, and stare at him fondly and admire his perfect face while he reposed.

Nah. Dean was a butt-ugly sleeper. 

Stomping into Sam’s room last night, drunk and clingy and demanding (thankfully, not “pounding whiskey with a dark look on his face” drunk, which Sam hated, but “happy giddy on girly drinks” drunk, which Sam sometimes liked). There was a certain kind of Dean, with a certain amount of inebriation, that just refused to be anywhere but _right up in Sam’s face all the fucking time_.

Then again, that wasn’t actually so different from sober Dean. 

Anyway, Sam woke up roasting hot with Dean dead to the world, drooling on his shoulder.

He supposed there _was_ some fondness to be found in just how passed-the-fuck-out Dean got when this happened. Neither of them were great sleepers a lot of the time. Sam had nightmares, Dean could rarely stay out more than a couple hours at one shot. But whenever Dean was in Sam’s bed, he was _out_. Donezo. Unconscious. The only times he got a solid 8 were when he was passed out in Sam’s bed, with the rock-hard mattress that he constantly bitched about, and no space. 

And with that, he was a butt-ugly sleeper. 

His mouth was hanging open, drooling all over the damn place. His face was squished into Sam’s shoulder, having used Sam’s left bicep as a pillow last night. He wasn’t some smooth, supine figure. His limbs were fucking everywhere. His elbow was digging into Sam’s ribs. His other arm splayed out into general nothingness, his legs akimbo, one of his across one of Sam’s. Sam wondered how neither of them had toppled onto the floor during the night. Sam wondered how Dean’s hair was only about an inch long, and still _that_ messy and sticking-out-everywhere. The blankets were a hopeless tangle and not at all serving their purpose.

When Dean was drunk, he snored like a fucking chainsaw. If the bunker had windows, they’d rattle. Sam got the full stereo effect, inches from his ear. And his breath stank.

Dean was hot, snorey, drooly, messy, spread-out, and if Sam didn’t know better, he’d have thought Dean had never shared a bed with another human being in his life. The one small mercy was that when he was drinking, he’d at least sleep still. Sam knew from experience that sober Dean squirmed and kicked like a goddamn can-can dancer half the night. Sam didn’t wonder how Dean stayed so lean when he ate and drank like he did. He got all his cardio in while he slept.

Dean was hot, snorey, drooly, messy, kicky, stinky, taking up all of Sam’s bed. And Sam was gonna do goddamn nothing about it except bitch about it in his own head while he squirmed out from under his brother to start the coffee.

And just as Sam was doing that, Dean rolled into the warm spot on the mattress that Sam had just vacated, snuffling a bit and grabbing Sam’s pillow. 

And Sam hated that even more, because how was he supposed to hang onto his bitchy mood when Dean did something like _that_?

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Sam stalked back over to his bed, disentangling the blankets enough to spread them over Dean, smacking Dean’s leg affectionately, but lightly enough not to wake him, before returning to his coffee mission and contemplating breakfast.

Maybe he’d go out and buy Dean something greasy to eat. He could probably use it after the night he had, even if Sam could practically see the plaque building up in his brother’s arteries. Then again, Dean tended to fret if he got up and couldn’t find Sam, so maybe he should make something for them here. He’d make Dean his damn bacon and eggs, but he was also gonna make him eat an orange in that case. And whole-wheat toast. And make him drink something actually hydrating alongside the coffee. 

Taking out his phone, he plunked it on the speaker in the kitchen and set it to a classic rock playlist he knew Dean would like. Scooped double the recommended measure of coffee into the maker (hunters take their coffee strong enough to dissolve metal) and got to work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback of all sorts is welcome.


End file.
